Sweet Softness
by Tu Es Chicago
Summary: Sam goes back to Jess again, if only in his dreams. Oneshot, SamxJessica.


**A/N: Another oldie of mine that lacked the means to get on here. I feel like Sam and Jess are vastly under-appreciated by the fandom, but they remain my OTP.**

The sand was warm, so very warm. The sunset was in its final stage, yet the warmth the now orange light had left still remained. The ocean now ran from the shore, having long stopped run over their feet as Sam lay on his back on the warm sand by the grey sea with her golden hair spilling all over him.  
He stroked the soft golden curls, he kissed her forehead, and she hummed to herself. An N'Sync song he hated to admit he now knew every word to.  
She turned her head, smiling now and humming faded to quietness as her lips met the side of his face. "Hey, Sammy."  
He laughed softly to himself, replying "Hey, Jess," Despite the obvious, that they'd been laying in the very spot for nearly an hour now.  
"I want to watch the sunset," She had said. "All the way through, like in the movies." The sun was nearly down, but Sam felt no urge to don anything over his shorts and go back home. The beach was empty, a Tuesday night when most were sensibly indoors; Sam most nights.  
She kissed him again, this time on the lips, and it lingered. She rolled over, on top of his shirtless form, the lace of her bathing suit tickling him slightly.  
Soft, everything was soft. Her lips, which tasted like pineapple lipgloss and iced tea with honey, the sand he lay on, the blonde curls falling all over him, her cheek which he stroked, the skin not covered by the two-piece swimsuit she wore. All of it was soft on the Tuesday Night on Finals Week. "One day off, Just one," She had said and he obliged happily.  
He entagled his hand in the soft curls, his other resting on her bare back, earning a delightful shiver out of the girl, whose lips had yet to disentangle from his.  
The kiss in itself was electric, a current that went through the two of them full of chill and happiness and excitement. When it broke they were both slightly breathless, the lightest of pinks on both their cheeks.  
Her hand rested on his chest, and a devious look rested on her face. "So," The word was merry, almost sung. "What does Sammy want to do?"  
"Huh?" He was worldless, breathless and mindless under her gaze.  
Her voice was lower now, slower. Her voice was easily more cunning. "What did Sammy have in mind?"  
His heart picked up, he kissed her again, then down her neck, a hand running along her thigh now, also perfectly soft and slender, like all of the night itself. So very soft, aside from one rapidly changing attribute belonging to Sam himself.  
She made a soft noise of content as he nibbled at her neck, gaining depth, velocity, confidence. Time itself was warping itself on their side.  
One minute he tasted sweet, clean skin of her neck and the next his hand had unclasped the frilly purple bikini with its blue polka dots, and he cupped her, kissed her, taking on pink and taut nipple between two fingers, his mouth giving sweet, teasing kisses and licks to.  
Another soft noise of approval, this one rather subconscious, her eyes closed throughout. He kissed lower and lower, until he could pull away the buttons of the bathing suit, stroking the soft, pink wetness below. She seemed far too happy of it, moaning softly now.  
"Sammy," She breathed. She pulled him closer, rubbing her hand against the tightness in his shorts. "Please," She whispered.  
He could feel their being unzipped, he felt them fall away, and he leaned over his love in the sand with the halo surrounding her heart-shaped face and blue eyes.  
He entered her, shuddering softly in pleasure as he was surrounded by the soft, warm walls, so very tight, welcoming around his desire. He moved slowly, enjoying not only the envelopment but the little gasps and moans for more, the hands gripping his shoulders so tightly, he kissed her again, picking up his pace, picking up the action, intensifying the pleasure and moans of both parties, joint with the wailing of seagulls, with the whoosh of sea air and the crash of the nighttime waves as the sun all but disappeared in the horizon.  
Tension grew, it became a sweet agony, threatening to explode. Jessica below him gasped, shaking slightly, she was close. With his final strokes, the last sweet thrusts he released himself from the sweet agony of pre-climax as she began to take hers, wracking through her in a brief spams, his name coming choked from her small, parted lips. "Sammy, I love you,"  
"You too, Jess." He breathed, hoarse and panting slightly.  
"Sammy, I..."

_"Carry on my wayward son, _

_There'll be peace when you are gone, _

_Lay your weary head to rest, _

_Don't ya cry no more."_

He was jarred by the old song from the radio-alarm. Wednesday morning, Motel 8 of Little Rock, Arkansas. Dean, in the bed across him now stirred too.  
Sam sunk back into the bed, below his covers, uncaring that they were soiled from the pleasure of dreams.  
The beaches, the late-night cookies, the Sunday morning Smurfs were things of the past. Jessica, too, was a thing of the past, her blond halo one of the last things Sam Winchester saw as a happy human being as she died that early morning. The sun had set, and her halo was more literal than he wanted to admit.  
"Damnit." He sighed, shaking his head. His eyes pricked, his chest feeling dreadfully heavy now.  
Jessica, sweet kisses, all of it. Sam wouldn't know it again. The crushing feeling of the morning she visited, the morning after she left and took her beaches back into his dreams were enough to make him consider things. Wouldn't it be easy to be like Dean, so unattached and frivolous? Wouldn't it be easier to simply, say, pretend for those few seconds of sweetness that he was loved?  
No. Because, when put plainly, they were not Jessica, and the sweetest of them would be sugared poison to the heart.  
"Sammy, rise and shine!" Dean barked, already fully dressed. He didn't want to, God, he wanted to lay in bed for weeks.  
"Yeah... Sure."


End file.
